


Erosion

by heartandmindxx



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Edmonton Oilers, M/M, New York Islanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartandmindxx/pseuds/heartandmindxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots of a relationship and how it changes over time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Erosion

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a long time ago- just reposting my favourite stories for AO3.

Sam was tired. 

The combination of long flights (Quebec City to Montreal to Toronto to Edmonton, Edmonton to Calgary back to Toronto the next day, and who was booking these flights for him anyway? Ever heard of a direct flight?), followed by a long drive (Toronto to London, two and a half hours, maybe more because his mother insisted on driving), preceded by a long season (although somehow not quite long enough- but there’s always next year) and a long tournament (which ended in disappointment but Christ, what an experience) had left him just shy of being completely burnt-the-fuck-out. 

Upon finally returning to his family’s London home, he dragged his suitcase up the stairs to his room (“Sam, you’re going to ruin the hardwood!”) and exhaustedly collapsed face-first onto his bed, passing out almost immediately. 

He woke an hour later, nearly smothered in his pillow. He turned his head to the side to face the wall, taking a deep breath. He drew a hand up to rub the sleep away- he was still as fuckin’ tired as he was before he’d fallen asleep. He opened his eyes, blinking a few times as he squinted to see one of his hockey cards from minor midget tacked onto the smooth surface of the wall. He smiled to himself subconsciously. It had been vandalized hastily with almost illegible writing, the trail of the black sharpie running off the corner of the glossy card.

_JT was here_

\---

 _“Hurry up, Tavares, I’m cold.” Sam whined, rubbing his hands together as he shed his cold skates on the back doorstep._

_“Hang on, I need to get this move down. Just a couple more tries.” John remained on the ice, trying to thread the puck through his legs like he’d seen Sam do a half-hour before._

_“It’s ok that I’m better than you, yanno. You’ll get there,” Sam said with a grin. “Seriously John, it’s freezing. I’m not taking care of you if you get hypothermia.”_

_“Yea, you will. It’s not so bad on the ice, anyways,” John said, nearly tripping over his stick. “Besides, what’s gonna happen if we get drafted by Buffalo or Edmonton or something? It’s way colder there.”_

_Sam rolled his eyes, “I’m turning off the lights in like five seconds.”_

_John laughed and bent over to pick up the frozen piece of black rubber. “Alright, alright. I’m coming, Mr. Impatient.”_

_Sam shook his head. “Cold and hungry are the two worst feelings in the world, and when they’re combined...”_

_“You and your stomach,” the younger of the two joked as he stepped off the ice and wobbled through the backyard to the deck. He tucked one of his gloves under his arm and bent to drag his bare finger through the snow._

_“What are you writing?”_

_“Nothin’.”_

_Sam glanced over. He laughed and rolled his eyes again. “You’re such a loser.”_

_“But you love me anyway.” John grinned as he continued to the door and sat to unlace his skates._

_“Yea, you’re a lucky guy.”_

\---

Sam rolled onto his back and pulled out his cellphone, flipping it open. He scrolled down to the desired number and put his finger lightly over the ‘select’ button, deliberating his next move (risk vs. reward?). Finally, he sighed and began to tap away at the keys.

_guess where i am_

He held his breath, waiting for a reply. At this point, he didn’t know if one would come. After a few moments, his phone buzzed an alert.

_how mny guesses_

Sam gave a sigh of relief and typed in a _3_ before hitting send. He stretched his body out, cracking his back and neck and closed his eyes for a few moments waiting for the next message.

 _get ur ass ovr here_

Sam smiled in spite of himself, then yawned, _im tired_ , then before a reply could come, _fine_.

\---

 _“Fuck, I’m tired.” John said as he flopped down on Sam’s bed, his 14-year-old stomach full of pizza and coke, and half a Canadian that Sam swiped out of the fridge for them to share._

_Sam threw his gear on the floor and laughed, still gripping his plaque in one hand. He jumped onto the bed, landing half on John who groaned and pushed him off, rolling towards the wall. “Yea, but we’re **winners**.” _

_John rolled back to face Sam and propped himself up on his elbow. “That’s never gonna get old, is it.”_

_“Never.” Sam ruffled his best friend’s thick brown locks and kissed him on the top of the head. “Fuckin’, never. Let’s keep doing this, ok?”_

_“But we won’t be on the same team anymore. I’m going to have to kick your ass.” John said, looking up at Sam._

_“In your dreams, Tavares.”_

_“Like you’d be in my dreams.”_

_“Only every night, baby,” Sam said playfully, tickling John right under the ribs. John flailed, knocking his head off the wall and kicking Sam in the knee, curling into the fetal position in an attempt to escape the torture. After a few minutes of wrestling, they found themselves sprawled out on the bed, overlapping and tangling._

_“Now I’m tired **and** my head hurts.” John complained, rubbing his palm over the tender spot on his head._

_“Poor kid,” Sam teased. He leaned over and kissed the spot, patting it after. “All better, yea?”_

_John closed his eyes, “I should get a new best friend.”_

_“Hey, you know I’m the only one who’s allowed to hurt you,” Sam said, plopping down to use John’s bicep as a pillow._

_“A less abusive best friend.” After a pause, “yea, I know.”_

_“I mean it. I’m never going to let anyone get to you, no one is ever gonna touch you,” Sam said, seriously._

_“You’ve never been in a fight in your life.”_

_“I fought James what’s-his-name in grade 5.”_

_“Doesn’t count. You lost, anyway. Might as well ignore that one.” John said with a crooked grin. He took a deep breath. “Thanks, though... I like that about you.”_

_“You like what?”_

_“That you’re really my best friend,” John said after a moment, “like, really.”_

\---

They hadn’t talked all that much since the World Juniors, when Sam called to congratulate everyone (No matter how weird of a feeling it was, not playing with them. 6 months before, he’d fully expected to be there, but he was playing in _the Show_ now, and juniors seemed a long ways away). He’d been wearing his old Team Canada jersey all day and the guys had seemed happy to talk to him. 

It had been an awkward conversation (to the say the least) and it hadn’t ended well (“Yea, well... hello? Hello? John?”). Sam figured they were good enough friends (friends?) at this point that they could deal with it without talking about it (ever, ever again). 

“Hey mom, going to Oakville,” Sam called out as he jumped down the stairs two at a time, grabbing his keys off the ledge next to the door.

“Drive safely, dear.”

\---

hey captn canada, congrats _Sam texted from his Vancouver hotel room_

i feel like it should b u, _Karl texted back, a world away,_ thx tho.

shut up u deserve it _Sam scolded his ever-modest friend. They’d become close at the tournament the year before, and had been reunited at the Super Series that summer as Alternate Captains._

k but u have 2 help me 

do not

 _Then, to John:_ hope ur having fun in austria 

_To Karl:_ take care of jt 

_To John:_ but not 2 much fun

 _From Karl:_ john can take care of himself

 _From John:_ cant b 2 much fun if ur not here

 _To Karl:_ well at least look out 4 him

 _To John:_ miss u, good luck

 _From Karl:_ u worry 2 much

 _From John:_ miss u 2

 _To Karl:_ i know

 _To John:_ i know 

_Early January was not kind to Sam- he had to watch the Juniors play without him, and he had to watch the Oilers play without him, too, as a healthy scratch. Then, with the flu._

_Not to mention, he had to watch John Tavares get kissed by a bunch of guys (some he knew and some he didn’t) on TV._

_It’s not like he and John were **Dating** (capital D), but maybe they were sort of kind of maybe dating (lowercase d) (sort of, kind of, maybe). They had what Sam figured to be some sort of unspoken bond, some kind of relationship without labels, but maybe John didn’t see it the same way._

tell the guys how it gets windier as u go higher up the mountain but the view will b worth it _Sam sent the day of the Semi-Finals._

hey do u no about jt and stammer _was all that was sent back._

...no what

I dunno but they seem like i dunno

like what kar

like there holding hands alot n stuff

stuff?

i dunno

i guess its rly not my bis

but rnt u guys like...

i dunno

well what about pat

...i dunno

\---

Sam drove through London, down familiar streets and past familiar landmarks. Places where he’d spent a lot of time with friends, on dates, on dates with friends. Past the theatre where he’d had his first kiss (with John) and received his first blowjob (with Patrick), and the rink where he, Patrick, and Sergei had lit up the OHL on so many nights the season before.

If the World Juniors didn’t end his relationship with John, it did _something_ , and who knew if things could go back to the way they had been, before bigger and better (or, smaller and a little more obnoxious) things had gotten in the way.

Sam’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, trying to keep his eyes on the road.

_r u here yet_

Sam smiled to himself and switched on the radio.

_soon_

\---

 _“Jesus, Sam, could you have picked a sadder movie?” John said, shoving his hands in his pockets as they stepped out into the night air._

_“Well I didn’t **know** , Jess said it was good,” Sam said, looking up at the stars. He looked over at his companion, “...John? Are you **crying**?”_

_John blinked harshly and shook his head. “No man, it was just that guy with the cigarette.”_

_“What guy? Nobody was-”_

_“Shut up. It kinda makes me want a summer romance, you know?” John said dreamily._

_Sam laughed, “hey buddy, you goin’ soft on me?” he said, pushing him lightly._

_John brushed his hand away and stopped walking. Sam walked a few more steps before stopping and turning around. “C’mon, John, I have to get you home.”_

_John took his hands out of his pockets and took a step towards Sam. He took his hand into his own, already larger one, staring at it for a moment as if trying to decide what to do next._

_“...John?” Sam said, taking a grip on John’s hand. John raised his head and met Sam’s eyes, then closed the distance between them and kissed him gently on the lips._

_“...Oh,” was all Sam said before he broke out into a shit-eating-grin._

\---

An hour and a half later, Sam pulled up into the driveway of the Tavares household, only a minute or two from his old place. He wondered absently if the (now famous) backyard rink (of dreams) was still there.

He got out of the car and trotted up the steps to the front door, taking a deep breath before pressing the bell. From inside, he could hear heavy steps stampeding down the staircase and through the house (the kid always had a habit of walking like an elephant).

Sam smiled as the door swung open and there he was, John Tavares, all 6 feet of his 17-year-old wonder-boy frame, with a crooked smile plastered onto his face.

“Hey,” he said as he stepped out of the house and onto the doorstep with Sam, “it’s good to see you.”

“Yea,” Sam said, smiling back, “you too.” 

Sam stood on the front porch of John’s house, quietly freaking out at the fact that this was definitely not the way that best friends (friends?) normally greeted each other. In an effort to stave off the awkwardness, he wrapped an arm around John’s body in what turned out to be the most awkward hug he’d ever experienced.

Things had changed.

\---

 _“What was that?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow as they stepped into the house._

_“What was what?” John replied, throwing his bag to the side._

_“That **handshake**. What kind of greeting is that?” Sam said, grabbing John’s hand as he was walking towards the kitchen._

_“I dunno,” John shrugged, “all the guys were there.”_

_Sam dropped John’s hand, offended. “You won’t even give your best friend a hug when ‘the guys’ are around?” He folded his arms, “they don’t need to know any more than that. I come all this way to see you, and you shake my hand? I could be somewhere else right now.”_

_“Who else would want you?” John laughed and pulled Sam in by his slim hips, “besides, you’re needed here.”_

_Sam leaned back from the waist up, “doesn’t feel like it.”_

_John moved his hands up Sam’s back and pulled him back, “Sam, it’s not like I’m ashamed of you.” He leaned forward to peck him lightly on the lips. “I just don’t know what you want us to be. In front of other people.”_

_Sam smiled coyly, “I want you to not be afraid to hug me,” he said, fitting his arms around John’s waist, “I want you to not be afraid to hug me, or touch me,” he leaned in closer, their faces just centimetres apart, his eyes falling to John’s lips, “...no matter where we are.”_

_John smiled warmly, “I think m’okay with that.”_

_Sam closed the distance between them._

\---

John led Sam to the familiar Tavares living room, where he had a game of NHL 08 on pause. They jumped over the back of the couch like it was a line change and each grabbed a controller, Sam turning his on and switching himself into the game.

“Way to run up the score on me before I even get here,” Sam said jokingly, noting the lopsided score on the screen (John’s Oshawa Generals super-team versus a very weakly created London Knights team).

John laughed but was already absorbed in the game.

They played for a while, quiet except for the occasional whoop or dejected groan (“That’s a big goal! A Big. Goal.”). Eventually, Sam cleared his throat and dropped the bomb.

“So, how’s Steven?” He said, sounding a lot more accusatory than he’d planned.

“How’s _Kane_?” John replied without missing a beat.

Sam huffed, “at least you knew about Pat.”

John rolled his eyes, still focused on the game, “the entire _NHL_ knows about you and him.”

\---

 _Sam and Patrick leaned against each other as they walked through the parking lot after a win against the Generals, joking and laughing loudly. Sam’s eyes were focused on the boy beside him as if he’d hung the moon._

_Patrick was different than anyone he’d ever met, not only as a hockey player, but as a person, too. He was confident to the point of cockiness and brash to the point of rudeness, though he never seemed to cross any lines. No matter what kind of shit he pulled, it always seemed to be viewed as an endearing feature about him. Everyone loved Patrick Kane, and everybody wanted a piece of him._

_Patrick laughed back at Sam, his vibrant smile cutting through the darkening night. Patrick turned his head to face the car they were headed to, his smile dropping slightly at the figure leaned up against it. He slowed his step, his laughter fading to a breath._

_Sam looked to see what had caused the reaction, his own laughter being cut off short. Patrick stopped walking as Sam stepped closer to approach the figure._

_“Hey, John,” he said with a smile, “good game, it’s good to see you.”_

_“Yea,” John flatlined, “you too.”_

_Sam frowned, “what’s wrong?”_

_John said nothing, though his eyes darted to the boy behind Sam._

_Sam lowered his voice, taking a hold of John’s hand. “Look, Johnny, I wanted to tell you...”_

_John looked into Sam’s eyes, coldly. “Tell me what?”_

_Then, as smoothly as if he were still on the ice, John rolled off the car and walked briskly away into the night._

\---

Sam paused the game and tossed away his controller.

“Look, you know it was always you first and everyone else second,” he snapped, “you _knew_ that.”

John huffed, “yea, that’s what it always felt like.”

“You were my best friend,” Sam said, frustrated, “you _are_ my best friend. I told you everything, from the start.”

“Except for that,” John said quietly. 

“I didn’t tell you that because it was nothing. It’s still nothing!” Sam said, his voice rising.

\---

 _Sam pressed his ear to the phone, listening to the ring for the umpteenth time._

 __“Hey, this is JT. If I’m not picking up, it’s probably for a reason. Leave a message.” __

_“John, it’s me again. I need to talk to you. Call me, text me, fuckin’ answer your phone. If you’re screening my calls, just pick up. Please.”_

_He snapped his phone shut again, exasperated. “This is getting ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, flipping his phone open again and pressing the redial button._

_The phone rang four times, and he prepared himself to leave another message. He’d flood the inbox if he needed to._

_“What.”_

_“John? Hey! You answered.”_

_“What do you want, Sam?”_

_Sam sighed, “I just need to talk to you about the other night.”_

_“What about it.”_

_“About me and Patrick, listen, we’re just friends.”_

_“So are we. What does that matter to me?”_

_Sam took a deep breath, “That’s the thing, though. To me, we’re not just friends. We’re best friends, we’re more than best friends,” a sort of strangled pause, “a lot more.”_

_“...What are you saying.”_

_“I don’t know, I don’t know, I guess I’m saying I...” Sam trailed off as he hesitated, “I guess I kind of, you know...”_

\---

“Nothing is ever _nothing_ with you,” John said, rubbing his eyes, “it’s always _something_ and you just _pretend_ it’s nothing. “

“Not with you!” Sam exclaimed, “What, you think I don’t care?” He shook his head, “you think I don’t... you think I don’t love you?”

John became almost offended. “You don’t know. You don’t know anything.” He gritted his teeth. “I’m fucking seventeen years old and I know more about love than you do.”

“What are-”

“No, Sam, listen to me,” John said, turning to look at Sam, his dark eyes burning, “if you think love is fucking around with your best friend and whatever other fucking guy or girl or whoever shows any interest, if you think that’s love, then I feel sorry for you.” 

“That’s not what it’s like, John,” Sam said, his voice lowering, “it’s not like that at all.”

“Well, from here, that’s a lot what it’s like,” John said darkly, dropping his eyes, his one hand clenching around his controller tightly.

“You’re wrong,” Sam said abruptly, “you’re just wrong. You’re my best friend and I love you. More than anything. More than Stamkos ever could, more than anyone ever could.” He reached his arm out to touch John’s arm lightly, “I need you, ok? As anything. I won’t lose you to anyone.” 

John turned sharply, jerking away from Sam’s touch. His jaw set and his eyes narrowed, he said in a near growl, “well, maybe I don’t need _you_.”

Sam withdrew his hand, leaning back in shock. His features softened and he nodded, then stood up and walked to the door, leaving without another word.

\---

 _“Hello?”_

_“Hey, John! Congratulations!”_

_“Fuck, Sam, this is the best feeling in the world. You have no idea how awesome this is.”_

_Sam laughed. “Actually, I do. I was there last year, remember?”_

_“Yea, yea, whatever-” John broke off his sentence to let out a loud whoop with whoever it was that was passing him at that moment, “so how’s Edmonton?” he asked almost hesitantly, “I hear you haven’t been playing lately. You sick?”_

_“Yea, well, I got scratched and then I got sick, so yea. Not the best time down here. I’m playing tonight though, finally. Hopefully I can get back into it alright.”_

_“Yea, Sam, that’s really good.”_

_Sam smiled, listening to the celebration that was going on in the background. “Listen, I’ll let you get back to the guys but there’s something I gotta ask you first.”_

_“Yea, what’s that?” John said, the noise in the background dimming. Sam figured he’d stepped out of the room for a moment._

_“I’ve been talking to Karl and he says...” he paused, debating how to word his next sentence, “he said you and Stammer have a thing going on.”_

_John was quiet. “So?”_

_“Well, is it true?”_

_“It might be,” John started to grow irritated, “what does it matter?”_

_“Well, I’d like to know who my **boyfriend** has on the side,” Sam said, finding the conversation getting out of hand._

_“I’m your boyfriend now? I wasn’t aware of that,” John scoffed. “What does **Kane** think about that?”_

_“If you’re not that, you’re my best friend, I think I deserve to know!” Sam exclaimed, his hands clenching._

_“That’s what you think, is it?” John said angrily._

_“Yea, it is. And for the last time, Patrick and I are just friends!”_

_“Yea, you keep telling me that.”_

_“Yea, well... hello?” Sam said as he heard the line go dead, “Hello? John?”_

\---

Sam leaned back in his chair in the office at Power Play. It had been almost three weeks (17 days, 2 hours, 31 minutes...) since he’d last seen or talked to John. This was the longest he’d gone without talking to him since they were kids, when Sam’s dad had taken the whole family on a Florida vacation (did it count as a vacation if Sam still remembered living there?) and they hadn’t been able to talk for a whole 25 days, before the internet and cell phones ruled their lives. Even when Sam made the team in Edmonton, for good, they still talked once a week for the whole season, just to check up on each other. They never forgot.

 _I should be training right now,_ Sam thought, running his hand through his hair. He could hear the Blade treadmill working a few rooms down, its loud motor drowning out the yelling of the trainer and the numerous players that were taking turns using it.

Sam hadn’t had his heart in anything in the last couple weeks, not since he left it on the couch in John’s house. Nothing felt right, knowing that John was mad at him, knowing that John didn’t want to talk to him (possibly ever, if his consistency in refusing to answer his phone said anything about that).

The thing, Sam had realized, was that he really did sort of love John Tavares, and they were just kids, but Sam had already fucked up so many things throughout the course of their relationship (friends?) that he wasn’t sure if it really counted anymore at all.

Patrick had called earlier in the week (“Hey Sam, listen, I’m going to be in London later this month...”), all sly comments and innuendos, and Sam had felt so guilty even talking to him that he’d faked an excuse and hung up the phone (“Hey, that’s great dude, but, I gotta- there’s this thing, I gotta go.”)

Sam closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, taking a deep breath. He slid his hands off, pulling down his features almost comically, before standing up and stepping out of the office to get some work done.

He walked through the main part of the gym to the Blade area, observing as Cody and Yann took turns, noticing Steve Bernier standing off to the side. They nodded at each other in acknowledgement, then continued to analyze the stride and strength of the young players.

Sam was in a daze, his body focused on the scene in front of him but only one thing on his mind. 

_”Maybe I don’t need you.”_

He didn’t think there was anything else John could have said that would have hurt more. Their relationship, ever since they were kids, was always based on the fact that they had a mutual dependence on each other. Sam had felt the need to protect John ever since he’d met him- older and wiser, though, as time passed John needed less and less protection, his body growing up and filling out. 

Sam always wanted to be there for John (alwaysalwaysalwaysalways) and in his head he’d thought that John would always need him to be there. Life without John just didn’t exist. It wasn’t even an option. John was a full-time job and there was no way he was going to join the ranks of unemployment. 

He was snapped out of his trance by his sister tapping him on the shoulder. He turned his head to look at her.

“Hey, Jess, what’s up?”

“There’s someone here to see you,” she said, a smile playing on her face.

\---

 _”Hey buddy,”_

_Sam opened his eyes to see (three, maybe four versions of) his father peering over him. “How are you feeling?”_

_He tried to shift his position, wincing, “Hurts.”_

_“Well kiddo, that’s to be expected. That was quite a hit you took,” his dad said, patting him on his good shoulder and ruffling his hair. “You have a visitor, I’ll bring him in.”_

_Sam nodded and closed his eyes._

_He found himself drifting off almost instantly, feeling the effect of the pain meds. Things had begun to fade as the door was swung open and an obnoxiously loud 16-year-old barged into the hospital room._

_“Sam? Holy shit, Sam, are you ok?” John said, at his bedside in a second flat, “I’ll kill that motherfucker.”_

_Sam laughed, opening his eyes slowly, “What the hell are you doing here?”_

_“I came as soon as I saw. Was watching the game. Didn’t have a game tonight. Are you ok? What hurts? What did the doctor say?” John said, talking a mile a minute._

_Sam closed his eyes in pain, “you’re talking way too fast. I don’t even know what happened.”_

_“You scored, your 30th, congratulations by the way, and that fucker Patrick fucking Lee gave you a late hit and you went pretty hard into the boards,” John said, brushing Sam’s hair off of his face.”You don’t remember? You went off on a stretcher, I was so scared.”_

_Sam opened his eyes, smiling weakly. “That explains the concussion, then.”_

_John was furious. “He gave you a concussion!? Now I’m really gonna kill him.”_

_Sam sighed. “I think I heard that my shoulder could be separated, too. It hurts a lot.”_

_John manoeuvred himself onto the bed with Sam. “Seriously, he’d better watch his fuckin’ back next time he plays us.”_

_Sam scooted over, clenching his teeth at the pain. “Well,” he said, leaning his head on John’s broad shoulder, “at least you’re here now.”_

_“Yea, I’m here. Just rest, don’t worry. I’ll still be here.” John kissed the older boy on the top of the head, mumbling into his hair, “I’ll always be here.”_

\---

Sam turned around fully, his breath hitching as John _fucking_ Tavares stepped out from behind the corner.

“...John.”

Sam had planned a speech for the next time he’d see John (“Dear John. I understand that I am in the wrong and I sincerely apologize for my actions, and would you please, please please holy fucking please take me back seriously I’ll never hurt you again ever ever ever it’ll be me and you and that’s it until the end of time and oh my god John I love you, please...”) but he’d assumed that it would be on his own terms. John wasn’t supposed to come to _him_ , he was supposed to be prepared for their next meeting, he was supposed to have some sort of romantic scheme to sweep John off his feet and into his arms and oh, _God_ , what the hell was he doing here?

“Hey, Sam,” John said quietly, neither of them making any move to step closer to each other.

Sam looked John up and down, almost surprised at how little he’d changed in the last two and a half weeks, as if he’d expected him to be completely different post-fight, post-Sam.

John looked around, bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his head. “Nice place.” 

“Um, thanks.” 

They stood in an awkward silence for what seemed, to Sam, like an eternity (one Mississippi, two Mississippi...). Suddenly, John shook his head, ending what appeared to be an internal battle, and stepped quickly towards Sam.

For a second, Sam was sure that John was going to hit him.

Instead, John placed one hand on Sam’s hip and the other on his cheek and pulled him in for a deep, earth-shattering kiss, his eyes clenched shut as Sam’s were wide open in shock. Once the initial surprise wore off, Sam relaxed, bringing one hand up to John’s shoulder.

When they broke apart, Sam’s heart racing, he snapped back into reality to feel the eyes of Cody, Yann, half the London Knights, his sister, and Steve _Bernier_ (and, oh my _God_ , was that his _dad_ who had just walked in?) all on him and the boy in front of him.

Sam looked like he was having a heart attack, while John gave him a calm smile.

“I changed my mind,” he whispered, their foreheads touching lightly, “I think I do need you.”

Sam smiled gleefully, barely able to suppress tears of joy. Yea, things had changed.

But maybe not _everything_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! xo


End file.
